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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27125236">Paint Nite</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlygirl14534/pseuds/girlygirl14534'>girlygirl14534</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Adventures of Amy [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Art, Art Shows, Artist Steve Rogers, Body Paint, Cute Date, Date Night, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Painting, Romantic Fluff, gallery show, paint fight, playful bucky barnes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:22:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,308</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27125236</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlygirl14534/pseuds/girlygirl14534</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Paint night date with Steve and Bucky! Later you showcase your creations at an art show in Steve's living room.</p><p>“You’re gonna get paint on my clothes!” you complained. </p><p>“Then take them off.”</p><p>“You first!” </p><p>Bucky began to disrobe with a smirk. </p><p>“That’s going to be distracting,” Steve said.</p><p>“Good,” Bucky winked cheekily.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Adventures of Amy [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1903927</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>63</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Paint Nite</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>"Muses work all day long and then at night get together and dance."<br/>-Edgar Degas</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You’re gonna get paint on my clothes!” you complained. </p><p>“Then take them off.”</p><p>“You first!” </p><p>Bucky began to disrobe with a smirk. </p><p>“That’s going to be distracting,” Steve said.</p><p>“Good,” Bucky winked cheekily.</p><p>You looked to Steve for backup but found him with his shirt already off. He shrugged when he saw you looking at him. “We’re never gonna win this one.” </p><p>So now you were sitting naked on a wooden stool in Steve’s living room, which had been converted into an art studio for the night. Three easels and a multitude of different size canvases rested on a drop cloth in the middle of the room, the couch and coffee table pushed back to make space. </p><p>You were trying to focus on the landscape you were painting, but you had other worries, such as being on alert for the next onslaught of paint. You were mixing an azure blue for the sky when you felt a splatter of paint hit your leg. You looked up at your assailant. Bucky grinned mischievously, his cheek smeared with orange where you had gotten him earlier. You calmly painted your hand blue and then slowly started approaching Bucky, who began to back up. </p><p>You ran forward and Bucky allowed you to place your palm on his bare chest, leaving a cerulean handprint on his pec and scurrying away. </p><p>“I’m gonna get you for that,” he said, approaching you. </p><p>“Are you?” </p><p>He dipped a finger in yellow and traced your collarbone. You took advantage of his proximity to reach around and grab his butt, leaving a light mark of blue behind. He grabbed some blue off his station and grabbed your ass as well. “Now we match.” </p><p>“You’re wasting paint,” Steve grumbled good-naturedly. </p><p>“I think this is a perfect use of paint,” Bucky said, dabbing orange dots on your stomach. </p><p>“Darling,” you said, striking a pose, “<em>we</em> <em>are</em> the canvas.”</p><p>“Is that so?” Steve said, rising from his stool with his palette and paintbrush in hand. He walked up to the two of you, appraising your paint-splattered bodies. </p><p>Steve turned your blue handprint on Bucky’s chest into a flickering blue flame. He transformed the green splatter on your thigh into a meadow of wildflowers. You had always been ticklish, and the feeling of his paintbrush lightly running across your thigh made you giggle. </p><p>“Keep still!” Steve said. “I’m trying to make a masterpiece.” </p><p>“Well, any good artist can handle a few curveballs. Even a shaky canvas,” you retorted. </p><p>When Steve was finished with your leg he looked between you and Bucky, appraising his work before going back to his canvas and painting away. </p><p>He had the cutest concentration face, with a furrowed brow and the tip of his tongue occasionally peeking out of the corner of his mouth. You and Bucky enjoyed watching him work. You eventually settled on the floor, laying on the tarp on top of his carpet. You lay on your side, propped up by your elbow and Bucky lounged on his side behind you. Steve took one look at you and told you to stay right there, switching canvases. </p><p>“Yay! We’re muses,” you said excitedly to Bucky. </p><p>“Yes, I’ve heard that our nudity can be quite inspiring,” he joked. </p><p>You were content to watch Steve paint and have the occasional murmured conversation with Bucky until your arm started to fall asleep </p><p>“How long do you think we have to stay like this?” you whispered to Bucky, who laughed. </p><p>Steve opened his mouth to respond but Bucky spoke first: “Any good artist can handle a few curveballs.” And with that, he sat up and prompted you to do the same. He pulled you back so you were leaning against his chest. Steve got a new canvas. </p><p>“Bend one leg Bucky. Good. Okay, now rest your arm on it. Extended, yeah. Perfect. Hold Amy to you with the other arm.” Bucky’s flesh arm came across your chest, covering your breasts, hand resting at your side. “Amy, look off to the right. Buck, look down at her. Just like that.” </p><p>You stayed like that for five minutes until Steve told you you were free. You stood up and asked Bucky to dance with you to the slow jazz that was playing. He took you in his arms and you swayed. It wouldn't be dancing with Bucky if he didn't throw in a couple of his trademark twirls, but not so many as to make you breathless or excessively giggly. He was a little slower tonight, lifting you by your hips and spinning around as he held you in the air, kissing your face. When he lowered you, and you touched back down to earth, you were content to rock slowly from side to side. Bucky was looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky, which is why he didn't notice you dip your hand in a jar of paint, and why he wasn't expecting you to run two paint-dipped fingers down his back. </p><p>“Hey!” Bucky protested over your uncontrollable giggles. </p><p>“Steve doesn’t have any paint on him. We should change that,” you whispered conspiratorially. </p><p>Steve allowed you two to doodle on him. You covered one of his legs in hearts of different colors and sizes. Bucky painted a sun on one of Steve’s pecs, both of you fingerpainting, Steve enjoying your light touches. Bucky insisted on taking lots of photos of the three of you to preserve your work long after it had been washed off. </p><p>...</p><p>It was a few weeks before Steve was ready to showcase his work. He had completed four paintings, and you and Bucky had also finished yours. That was six paintings that needed to be unveiled, which called for more than your average show and tell. You suggested holding a mini art show.</p><p>Which is how you found yourself standing in Steve's living room in a cocktail dress, nibbling on a piece of cheese and listening to Bucky share fake art facts. The room had been transformed into a veritable art gallery. All six paintings were mounted on the wall, covered by sheets, with a spotlight above each one. There was even a plaque by each piece with the name of the artist, the title of the work, the medium of the work, and the size. The smooth jazz playing softly over the speakers, glasses of champagne, and mood lighting completed the scene. While you had given Steve a few ideas as to how to set up the space, he had really gone all out, which you appreciated. </p><p>You and your friends did a Friendsgiving every year where you donned over-the-top costumes and enjoyed a potluck dinner. You felt so grateful that you had people in your life that supported your silly ideas rather than scoff at them. When you suggested an art show, your boyfriends had wholeheartedly agreed to it and put a lot of time and effort into making it happen. You enjoyed mingling for a while, taking in the space and interacting with each others’ art show personas. </p><p>Bucky played a hipster; complete with man bun, glasses, and suspenders. You were a wealthy widow. Your husband had disappeared under mysterious circumstances and left you with a pile of money that allowed you to be a patron of the arts. You would have made a Janet Snakehole reference, but the boys hadn’t seen Parks and Rec yet. Steve was the man of the hour, and you and Bucky peppered him with questions about his creative process and the provenance of his pieces, as well as more ridiculous questions about his spirit condiment and whether or not he used cruelty-free paint. He played the role of the pretentious artist perfectly:</p><p>“My inspiration? I must admit it's not my own. The muses, they visit me, and I cannot turn them away. I <em>must</em> create.”</p><p>You bit your lip to stifle a laugh but Bucky's snorts had the three of you laughing out loud in no time. After a few more minutes in your roles, you were ready to unveil the art. You went first. You removed the sheet covering your work with a flourish, and dramatically proclaimed “Ta-Da!” </p><p>You had started painting a beach scene on the right side of the canvas and a forest on the left, working inwards. That left a jagged stripe of blank space in the middle that you hadn’t been sure what to do with. You gave up on making the two scenes meet and instead drew outer space in the blank spot. However, the blue-black background and small white circles looked more like polka dots than constellations. You added some planets, but they just looked like balloons, so you turned some of them into jellyfish, which actually looked kinda cool. Your artwork wasn't going to be hanging in the MET anytime soon, but it wasn’t bad. You had picked up a few tricks on drawing trees and oceans from Bob Ross at the Paint &amp; Sip nights Brandon hosted. Instead of a traditional signature, you had created an alphabet soup in the stars, using mini constellations to spell out the letters of your name. You named your painting Where the Stars Meet the Sea.</p><p>“Wow. That's actually really good,” Steve said.</p><p>“Don't sound so surprised!”</p><p>“Sorry! You said you were shitty at art! That's not shitty!”</p><p>“It really isn’t,” Bucky said. “Now I'm nervous to share my piece. I was counting on yours to make mine look better!” He was already laughing as he finished his sentence, and only laughed harder when you shoved his arm and told him to hush. He caught your hand in his and brought you closer to him. He kissed your forehead. All was forgiven. </p><p>“Didn't I read somewhere that you went to art school back in the day?” you said. </p><p>“That was a long time ago. I didn’t even finish all my classes! And besides, I only went to hang out with Stevie.” </p><p>“Well, art school dropout: let's see what you got,” you said.</p><p>Bucky dropped the sheet covering his painting unceremoniously to the floor, revealing an impressionistic painting. It portrayed a rainstorm over the ocean—gray clouds and churning water as raindrops splashed down from the sky. However, the rainstorm appeared to be moving off toward the right side of the canvas. At the left corner, a ray of sun broke through the clouds, and you could see the beginnings of a rainbow. The Calm After the Storm, it was called.</p><p>“Didn't pay attention in art school my ass,” you said, giving Bucky’s hand a squeeze.</p><p>“And here I was, thinking I was the only artist in this relationship. You two certainly proved me wrong tonight.”</p><p>“Let’s see your art, Steve. The art that we,” Bucky threw his arm around you,“ inspired.”</p><p>Steve cleared his throat self-consciously as he presented the first painting: Joy in Motion. It was you and Bucky dancing, mid-spin. Your faces and shoulders were defined, but a riot of colored strokes enveloped the rest of your bodies. The paint swirling around your dancing forms mimicked the feeling of twirling in Bucky's arms as the air came alive around you. You were the only two people in the world, caught in a tornado of color.</p><p>You and Bucky were speechless, and hardly had time to gather some intelligent thoughts to express your admiration of the piece before Steve was unveiling the next one: Persephone. Persephone had a velvety background that was such a deep blue it was almost black. There was an intricate blue flower with mesmerizing petals that looked lined in electricity. As you looked, the petals began to look more like tendrils of a blue flame. As you continued to stare, you wondered if it were even a flower at all—perhaps it <em>was</em> a flame. Steve had achieved a mesmerizing optical illusion inspired by both you and Bucky's body paint. </p><p>The third painting was the most realistic. You were sitting between Bucky’s legs. He had one knee bent and rested a gold-and-black elbow on it. His curtain of dark hair was tucked behind his ear, but a strand had fallen free and framed the side of his face as he looked down at you. His free arm wrapped across your chest, covering your breasts. Steve had painted in a sheet draped across your lap for modesty. He kept the drop cloth you had been sitting on, but changed the rest of the background. The couch you had been leaning on was now a chaise in what appeared to be a Parisian artist’s loft. You and Bucky looked like the stuff of legends, the stars of a Renaissance painting. This work was titled Off-Duty Muses. </p><p>The last piece was abstract line art of you and Bucky laying on your sides entitled NeverEnding. One continuous rainbow line suggested your silhouettes, and you recognized the curve of your hip and your breasts. NeverEnding was going to be hung in Steve's bedroom and he was going to leave Joy in Motion in the living room. With you and Bucky’s permission, he also left up Where the Stars Meet the Sea and Calm After the Storm. Your works of art did a lot to liven up Steve's apartment. Steve gifted Persephone to Bucky and Off-Duty Muses to you. Persephone was hung across from Bucky’s bed. You also hung up your painting in your bedroom at home. It was a perfect memento of two great nights with the men you loved. Steve had painted you with such care. You wondered if this was how the woman who modeled Filippo Lippi’s Madonna and Child had felt: like her beauty was timeless; like men might be justified in starting a war over her; like she was worthy of a thousand ballads being written in her honor, and centuries of bards singing her name. </p>
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